Tiller of the Sand
by avatar-ahsoka
Summary: Ten years have passed since the Duchess Satine died. Now, Ben Kenobi reminisces about her desire to do the impossible, bring peace to discord. Obitine one-shot


A wall of sand approached from the horizon. It was dark, blotting out the sun, and as tall as the Jedi Temple. The old man gazed at the coming storm with dejection.

"This is the third one this week," Ben muttered under his breath as he started into the small home.

With his ancient magic, the wizard shut the viewports. As the storm engulfed the sad little hut, Old Ben gazed out into the maelstrom of disrupted terrain. Sand was always a symbol of loss to the aging man. Sand is what remains when everything has been eroded, erased, forgotten. Parts of Mandalore were covered in sand, Ben recalled, a coarse, white sand. That was a prime example. Thousands of wars wore down the system, leaving whole regions unsettled, barren, and inhospitable.

To till sand is a pointless task. Nothing of use to people will ever grow in ground that is constantly moved by wind. When land becomes sand, it is gone and hopeless. But, with work and care, it is possible to build life in the midst of barrenness. Ben always admired those kind of people, the type to see beauty in desolation. He had never been one to look past what is, always preoccupied with the here and the now. People who aim to till sand live their whole lives trying to build a greater future.

"Satine"

The words were like water, satiating his parched mouth. Satine was such a person. A tiller of sand. A beacon of light. He had known her as the stoic duchess who fell madly in love with a Jedi. She was the voice of reason in a storm of partisan warmongering, also known as the Clone Wars. Satine worked tirelessly to redeem Mandalore and repair hundreds of generations of hostility. If Ben remembered correctly, the duchess was wildly successful for a time. She led the coalition of neutral planets as well as quelling dissent on Mandalore in a fairly peaceable manner. It appeared as if Satine has achieved the impossible, she had tilled the sand. But, the desert is spiteful, and in all its vitriol it struck back against the duchess.

All of it shifted under her feet. The dunes were whisked away by the winds of evil, leaving Satine alone and falling. The pain Ben felt as he was forced to watch as the desert consumed her, it still ached now a decade removed. Even with all the pain in his old heart, Ben knew the pain Satine must have felt was far greater. For years and years she had tried to guide her people, provide them with a better future. But that unwavering desire to till the sand and make it into a fertile oasis, it doomed her. Satine was so faithful, so fearless, so strong. Ben envied her bravery and also missed her with every fiber of his being.

The old man noticed the storm had lifted and the suns had returned. He opened the door of his austere abode then started out. Ben walked aimlessly out into the Dune Sea until he fell to his knees. A breeze passed by, not a soothing breeze but a torrid wind. Grains attached to his drenched brow as his skin turned red under the overbearing heat of the binary suns. He reached down and seized a handful of sand, grasping it tightly as he did not want any to escape. Ben set his tried gray eyes on the beige earth, contemplating how treacherous it was, how it had taken everything away from him leaving only this sad old man. As Ben tightened his hold on the cluster, more grains slipped away from him until only a few sparse grains remained. He brought his hand to his face, just as Satine did before she slipped away. The warmth from the burning hot sand still lingered on his flesh, but it was nothing like the duchess' soothing touch.

Satine, Duchess of Mandalore, Challenger of Fate, Tiller of Sand, was gone and all of her legacy that remained was this old man whom she loved with all her heart. The sand remained scalding hot and hostile, wearing away at what remained of the once great warrior.

"Satine," Ben breathed, "Satine."

He silently prayed for some sign from the Force that this sadness would lift, but none ever came. All there was an endless sea of burning sand and a shell of a man with no one left to ease the pain.


End file.
